The Lady and the Heir
by Lasso the Moon
Summary: She longed for the untainted; he longed for a marriage based on love. What they had was neither, but it kept them both alive for a decade.
1. Chapter 1

Mothers could be so puzzling sometimes. Hoping to impart some wisdom in roundabout, indirect manners, they had the tendency to make sweeping generalizations and toss out endless idioms of what and what not to do. At times they were straightforward, but others, like now, they were simply nonsensical. It also didn't help that his father was saying the complete opposite of what his mother was.

The conversation in the car was like many others—the Viscount Branksome, Charles Napier, was talking about the races again, one of the mainstays of the English Season, and his mother would listen politely until finally changing the subject to more pressing matters.

"Now you know, there will be plenty of debutantes at the ball that will want a dance." she interjected with an apologetic smile, which always seemed to shut his father up.

Or at least, shut up for a moment. "Yes—the first of many seasons. Remember what I'm always telling you, son. You are the future of our house, our name—"

"Charles, it's only his first ball." The viscountess interrupted, with another smile directed at her son. "Let him enjoy himself."

"He can enjoy himself _and_ look after his family's interests. The Earl of Fairfax and his daughter—his only child—will be attending this ball. She's about your age, and of course very eligible. You should look after her."

Evelyn met his father's severe green eyes with a dutiful nod, clasping his hands in his lap and looking out the car window as they approached the townhouse of his parents' friends, the Duke and Duchess of Wesley. Of course he was terribly afraid because he didn't know anyone there. He knew that he was raised to do this, to socialize, to charm other people, but for some reason it didn't seem as if his education had prepared him for this. Finding a _wife_? He had just read law at Oxford, and now he was expected to find a wife, before he even set foot into an office.

He just wanted to enjoy the fact that he graduated from university, and had come of age—was that too much to ask? He supposed the Season was that for young men, but it still felt so very regimented.

The conversation with Lady Patricia was one such example. They talked about the party, making comments about who was who and where everyone was from and what not—in other words, absolutely nothing until he asked her if she wanted something to drink. He excused himself to find a footman and nearly bumped into someone on the way.

"Terribly sorry, mad—" He opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling like a fish and probably looking like one, as his eyes met the striking cerulean eyes of the graceful woman standing in front of him.

"It's Lady, actually."

Her voice was like her eyes—piercing, yet still managing to leave him dumbstruck. "I-I sorry." he mumbled, barely coherent, before shaking his head. "My apologies, Lady…?"

"Lady Mae." He shook himself out of his stupor as she offered him her gloved hand.

"Lady Mae," he repeated, finally seeing fit to close his agape mouth, his lips curling upward in a pleasant smile.

There was a bit of an expectant pause, and when Evelyn didn't answer, she prompted, "And might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"N-Napier, Evelyn Napier." he stammered out, letting go of her hand and folding his own restless ones behind his back. "How do you do?"

"Son of the Viscount Branksome?"

"Yes. Yes, son and heir." he answered, clearing his throat to steady his voice, which he had only just managed to find.

She smiled, which only served to frazzle his mind even more. "Is this your first season, then, Mr. Napier?"

"It is, milady."

"How exciting for you—are you nervous?"

"A bit, to be honest." he admitted sheepishly, his eyes sweeping the room. "I only recognize about half the people here—and of those most of them are only by name. I don't think we've actually ever had a conversation about anything that matters."

Lady Mae's eyes followed his until his last statement, her interest obviously piqued. "And what would you say matters?"

Evelyn wasn't expecting the question, and he had to take a moment to formulate an answer. "Well, certainly not the frivolous things—like the races, for instance. My father spent the whole time talking about them on the car ride here. And I love a good horse race just as much as the next man…dreams, and aspirations—those are the things that matter. What we want out of life…" He raised his wineglass to his lips.

"What an original point of view—surely you know that none of us _talk_ about the things that matter, as you say. The aristocracy thrives on gossip and triviality." she remarked with an amused grin.

"But should we? Superficiality isn't a virtue." It certainly wasn't one that he saw as attractive—and all Lady Patricia seemed to want to talk about was the latest gossip. Granted they barely knew each other and had nothing to talk about besides that, he supposed, but even so…

"No, it is not. And it's commendable that you realize that, Mr. Napier. So tell me, what are your aspirations?"

"Well…I've only just finished university, you see, but I'd like to become a diplomat. It'd be fascinating to be Viceroy of India…" He had read countless pieces by Kipling and other writers, and longed to visit the Jewel in the Crown. Achieving something like that would surely bring honor to the House Branksome, and by his deeds and merit, not because he married the daughter of someone important.

"My, that's quite ambitious—and refreshing. Too many men take to the gambling tables straight after school—but you want to do something productive and of use. It's admirable." Her compliment, however flirtatious he was reading it as, seemed genuine, and he had to return her smile, a slight flush spreading over his face at the heavy praise.

"Thank you, Lady Mae. I wonder if you'd like a dance?" he asked, emboldened by both accolade and smile.

"I would _love _a dance, Mr. Napier." She handed her drink to one of the footmen scattered about the ballroom, and Evelyn followed suit.

He had danced with women before at his parents' dinner parties, but this was a part of his coming of age—his first dance as an eligible society bachelor. There was a Viennese waltz playing, and he took her hand and smiled, resting his other against the small of her back as he led her across the floor. This was a first, in that he didn't recall dancing with a lady as beautiful as she was in his past experience. She had eyes like sapphires, skin like porcelain, and her dark curls were probably like silk. It was clear that he was smitten, and all thoughts of the Earl of Fairfax's daughter were driven from his head.

"Do you have any aspirations?" he asked after a moment, figuring that he should say _something_ instead of looking like a lovestruck schoolboy the entire time.

A cagey grin played across her features, and her answer came in a whisper. "I certainly do, Mr. Napier, but they're a secret."

"That's a bit unfair—I've given you my deep dark secret desire to become the Viceroy of India," he teased, though he genuinely was intrigued by her evasiveness.

"All in good time."

The dance soon ended and another man was lined up to ask for a dance after his. Before Evelyn took his leave, Lady Mae passed him a slip of paper and he looked up in confusion. "My card. Do stop by for some tea, and perhaps I'll share these aspirations." she stated with a grin before starting to dance with the other man.

Evelyn turned over the card as he walked back over to the other side of the room. There was an address for a house in Grosvenor Square, as well as her name—her full name. The card read: _Lady Mae Loxley_.


	2. Chapter 2

( This one's shorter, I promise next one will be more exciting ;) )

Normally he didn't immediately go to Burke's Peerage to look up the name of a woman whom he had just danced with, but today was an exception. He had kissed his mother goodnight and shaken his father's hand before hurrying downstairs in his pajamas and dressing gown to the library and curling up on the couch with the thick tome. _Loxley, Loxley, Loxley_—he froze when he found that page and paled._Lord Alexander Loxley, Marquess and Lady Mae Loxley, Marchioness._ He knew he'd heard the title thrown around before—in the newspapers, having to do with that store that opened in London, Selfridge's.

He had danced with a married woman.

Normally, in any other context, he would think it to be completely innocent—he had indulged a slightly older woman ( though really, she didn't look _old_ to him by any sense of the word ) in a dance, but she was clearly flirting with him, and he had been flirting back. And what would have happened if he had _actually_ gone to her home for tea?!

"What are you doing up?"

Evelyn jumped and closed the book as the light in the corner flickered on, his gray-haired father shuffling into to the room. "Oh..uh, um, couldn't sleep."

His father nodded and went to his desk. "Brandy? Always helps." he offered.

"Just a sip." Evelyn answered, replacing the book and sitting back down. "Thank you." He smiled when his father handed him the glass and clicked it against his before taking a sip.

"So." His father took a swig of his own drink and set it down on the coffee table, clasping his hands together and fixing his green eyes upon his son's blue ones. "Have you given any thought to what you'd like to do?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. I was thinking about the Foreign Office. I'd like to go to India."

"India? After just getting back from Oxford? You know how much your mother's missed having you around—you're going to break her heart all over again?" The comment was only half serious, but it made its impact, and Evelyn froze in thought.

"So you're saying I shouldn't try for it?"

"No…but give it a bit of time. If you'd like to make yourself useful, son, you might consider the bank."

"The bank?"

"There's nothing wrong with working at a bank. It was the first thing I did after Cambridge." His father stated with a shrug, which shocked Evelyn even more.

"But you studied Classics?"

"And they taught me everything I needed to know on the job. Do you remember what happened to the Edmontons?" The question seemed random at first to Evelyn, until it clicked. The Edmontons had owned an estate in Cheshire until last year, when it had gotten too expensive to run and they had sold it. Now they lived permanently in London.

"Yes…they ran out of money—"

"They _squandered_ their money. And that won't be us. That will _never_ be us. Do you understand? We were industrialists, Evelyn, that's how we started out. Then along the line the King saw fit to grant us a barony, and then a viscountcy—and maybe you or your son will be an earl someday, but the bottom line is, each of us is only as good as his wits. And when we have nothing else left, it's our wits that we can rely on. And if those wits are accustomed to finance, then that's all the better. However 'middle class' that may sound." The Viscount finished with a smile and clapped him on the back.

"I understand, Dad. I'd be willing to try it, if they'd take me." It wasn't exactly what he had had in mind, but he could use what he had learned about the law, and he would be picking up new skills about proper management along the way.

"Then it's settled. I'll phone Mr. Hillman in the morning, see if he would be willing to take you on. And by 'if', I mean 'when', since old Hillman and I go way back."

He had wanted to do something, and this certainly beat making idle chatter with debutantes that had no particular interest in his dreams, or married women that had an inappropriate interest in him and his dreams. Even if it had been the most fulfilling conversation of the night…and he couldn't forget about those twin sapphires that managed to root him to the spot from the moment he had seen her—

"Well, I'd best leave you to your books. Good night, son."

"Night, Dad." He smiled at the older man briefly and settled back into the couch, grabbing _Barchester Towers _from its place on the shelf and beginning to read, hoping to stave off any thoughts of Lady Mae Loxley from permeating his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Almost two years later, I'm finally updating! Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I was inspired to continue because of the final series of Mr. Selfridge, so, without further ado, here's Chapter 3._**

* * *

"What's your schedule look like for today, Napier?"

Evelyn looked up from the reconciliation he was working on as Mr. Aldridge addressed him. Aldridge was a chap from Thirsk who had worked at the bank for several years, and had in essence trained him for his job since he had started a few weeks before. Right now, he was a jack-of-all-trades, one day he was the teller, another he was in bookkeeping, others processing the checks. He found it stimulating, however menial others of his class might find the work. His salary was quite reasonable, and it was fulfilling to say that he had earned it.

"After work? Oh, not much—probably dinner at White's, I suppose, and then a book or the newspaper. And for you?"

"Dinner with the family—and a few clients—you should come along, it's no use taking dinner by yourself…as _usual_, I would imagine, hm?" The bald man raised an eyebrow and Evelyn smiled, realizing that he had given himself away. Sometimes he would eat at Branksome House, but either way he was technically eating alone, since his parents of course still resided in Dorset, and his friends with estates at their homes. Sometimes he ran into one of them at White's, but the majority of his meals were taken in solitude.

"I'd be delighted." he answered with a nod, shuffling the files on his desk with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. I'll finish these—go on and take a turn at the window, give poor Giles a break."

Evelyn rose and picked up his morning coat from its stand, pulling it on and straightening it out before heading to the front office. Giles, a younger banker with a bit of a stutter, had finished with one of the customers and he clapped him on the shoulder gently. "I'll take over from here."

He mouthed a simple 'thank you' and stepped aside—only to reveal the woman he had been fretting over for a full month since the ball. "Lady Loxley…" he said after a moment, plastering a smile on his face to offset the shock. The twinkle in her eye and the grin that accompanied it was disarming as well as alarming, but he tried to maintain his composure, his professionalism—as he had been taught. "What a pleasant surprise."

"And here I thought you weren't pleased to see me. You look as if you've seen a ghost."

His smile thinned and he dropped his eyes to the pen he held. "You just surprised me." he reiterated.

"You weren't expecting to see me again, then? I thought as much, since you never rang." There was a hint of disappointment in her tone, and somewhat of a pout as she spoke, which made him raise an eyebrow.

"I didn't think Lord Loxley would have taken too kindly to me if I had." he stated softly.

All amusement faded at that, and there was a brief flicker of something in her gaze—anger, perhaps? But as soon as it had come, it had vanished, replaced by that casual perpetual amusement. "Lord Loxley is always in the country, and I am always in London. Was that what you were worried about?"

"Did you wish to make a deposit, Lady Loxley?" Evelyn asked, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed.

"A withdrawal, actually—from one of my lockboxes."

"Of course, this way." He closed his teller window and emerged from behind the desk, leading her down one of the winding hallways to the vaults. They walked in silence, for which he was grateful. He didn't know what he had been thinking—if he simply didn't call, didn't visit, then he wouldn't have to see her again? It was a foolish thought, considering the fact that they moved within the same circles. Nonetheless any thoughts of courtship at least had been perished with the news that she was wed to the Marquess of Loxley. It should have ended then and there—even though, in reality, there was nothing to end. He didn't know why he felt so guilty while he was around her, as if he were some sort of adulterous cad when he hadn't…done anything—nor had he considered doing anything…

"Alone at last."

With some effort, his expression remained stoic as he held open the door to her vault room, closing it behind them once she had entered. "Which one, milady?"

"Darling, I'm not making a withdrawal, it was an excuse."

Incredulous, he looked up from the shelf as she smirked, setting down her pocketbook and removing her gloves. "What do you want?"

She clucked her tongue and sat down, shaking her head condescendingly. "Is that any way to treat a customer?"

"How did you know I worked here?"

"I didn't—but now that I do know, I figured that we should talk."

"By tricking me?"

"You weren't going to speak with me otherwise, now were you?"

The viscount's son sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "I acted…inappropriately, and I apologize, Lady Loxley, for offending you. I had no idea that you were married."

"You didn't offend me, Mr. Napier, quite the opposite. You indulged me in a dance, acted the perfect gentleman—what exactly do you think I could find offensive about that?"

"I thought that you might think me forward, but clearly that wasn't the case." he reasoned. "Because I displayed…interest, but you weren't offended by it."

"Interest?" Lady Loxley smiled, feigning surprise. "Interest in what, exactly?"

"Please don't."

She rose from her chair, and he folded his hands behind his back—it was all he could do to keep them from trembling. His eyes swiveled to the row of lockboxes on the wall immediately to his right, and he suspected he looked just like a ripe tomato at the moment. He might have been inexperienced, but he knew exactly what this was, even as she stopped her advance right in front of him. "Don't what?" she asked, her voice husky, inviting.

"I won't insult you by saying it." His own voice was barely above a whisper, and his eyes widened when he felt her hand brush his cheek and then hold it in place. He finally met her gaze and mumbled, "You're trying to seduce me, Lady Loxley."

"Do you want me to seduce you, Evelyn?"

Did he? Lord knew he had thought of barely anything but her. She was beautiful, intelligent, and obviously he was very attracted to her. Plenty of men his age had dalliances—he'd always been too shy to even think of doing such a thing—but not with married women. Even if the situation was as she said, it was wrong. "It doesn't matter what I want." He shook his head, lifting her hand from his cheek and, unable to help himself, raising it to his lips. "I have to attend to the other customers." He stepped away and opened the vault door for her, ending the conversation then and there.

He could only see her peripherally draw herself up and pull on her gloves, but on her way out, she stood in front of him, looking him in the eye. "Thank you ever so much for your assistance, Mr. Napier." she said, probably for his benefit as there were bankers and customers walking the hallway in front of them. He nodded, closing and locking the door behind him. As his back was turned, she whispered, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He hesitated, listening as her shoes clicked on the marble floor as she left him. Only when the clicking drowned out did he turn around, watching her round the corner, before shaking his head and returning to his desk.


End file.
